


Family Planning For Fire Breathers

by Logos_Faber



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dragon Sherlock, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 05:50:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7922992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Logos_Faber/pseuds/Logos_Faber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How dragons John and Sherlock start a family without one womb between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Planning For Fire Breathers

This is a non-profit work of fiction for the amusement of other fans.

No infringement is intended.

Logos Faber

o0o

“What a bloody mess,” Lestrade grumbled, as he walked out of the warehouse, he ran both hands through his silvery hair. 

Sally Donovan shuddered hugging herself. “Bodies flung every which way. Like fucking confetti!” 

“By who? How?”

“Interpol sent word to be on the lookout. Not a day later I’ve got the severed heads of twenty six alleged mercenaries mounted to the wall like hunting trophies.”

“We got the call not twenty minutes ago – there’s no way anyone had time to kill that many people that fast. It’s impossible. “

“By your logic they should still be alive – since killing them was impossible. Yet they are dead. The evidence suggest your logic is flawed. As per usual.”

“Where did you come from freak?”

“I was tied up in the back with the children. The SWAT team let me out.”

“How the hell did you get here in the first place?”

“I was kidnapped. Obviously.”

“Do you know what happened in there?”

“Representatives from the Sword of Silence were here to barter art from former Soviet Bloc museums, and children in exchange for Sean Kennedy. A retired SAS operative with the technical expertise to make a dirty bomb without killing himself in the process.”

“Where is Kennedy now?”

“With his husband. Watching a match if Chelsea is playing.”

“I don’t understand –“

” You never do.” Sherlock sighed.

“SHERLOCK!”

“A former co-worker warned Kennedy certain classified personnel files has recently been trifled with. He consulted me. John and I took up residence at the Kennedy home while Sean and his husband went into hiding. We were kidnapped. We are rescued. Case closed.”

“Alright genius, what about the heads stuck them to the wall? Who tossed the bodies like rag dolls? Some of them is in the rafters!”

“The heads weren’t cut off they were ripped off.”

“How do you know that? Did you see what happened?”

“Do you have eyes? Didn’t you see how much spinal cord and trachea was still attached? Can you see how the flesh at the base of the neck was ripped-”

“That’s enough Sherlock!”

Donovan turned and started to wretch up her breakfast. Sherlock rolled his eyes at her unprofessional reaction to gore and carnage. Sherlock looked over Lestrade’s shoulder and saw an EMT approaching with a twisting screaming baby in her arms.

“Actually. You know what? Ignore me.”

“What?”

“I’m in shock. Donovan fetch me a blanket. Terribly frightened. My family was in danger. I’m a family man you know. With a family. Look,” Sherlock plucked the baby out of the arms the EMT, the little girl’s sobbing quieted. She clung to Sherlock hiding her face in his shoulder sniffling pitifully. “I’ve got a baby.”

“Holmes! Whose child is this?” Lestrade waved an emphatic hand in infant’s direction. 

“Mine. I found the children. John said we could keep them. This is Mischa. She's a trifle small I grant you, but John assured me she'll grow to proper size. Given enough time.”

“Where did she come from?” Lestrade exploded in exasperated fury.

“Lithuania.” 

“How the hell do you know that?”

“I asked.”

“Give her here freak!”

Sherlock swatted Sally’s hands. He twisted his body away from Donovan so the detective could not reach Mischa.

“Don’t touch her! I don’t want you getting stupid and vomit on my child! She’s not had the appropriate shots yet.” 

"Sherlock." Lestrade pinched the bridge of his nose. “You can not claim children you found at a crime scene, like, like a lost umbrella!”

“Why ever not?” Holmes asked curiously rubbing the little girl’s back soothingly. “They’re perfectly nice, healthy children. Father and Mummy will be ever so pleased. They’ve been gagging for grandchildren ever since John and I moved in together.”

“Sherlock you’re out of your mind! Where is John?” Lestrade shouted. "Watson?!"

“Why are you yelling?” Dr. Watson asked mildly.

Lestrade swung around to face Dr. John Watson and found the shorter blond man approaching leading a small child, wrapped in an orange shock blanket. The boy was thin, with dark hair that came to a widow’s peak and large brown eyes that looked almost red. 

Sherlock gestured to the little boy. “Meet my son: Hannibal. We might call him Hamish after John or Dexter after my father. Maybe both.”

“Tell you pet psycho he can’t steal children from a crime scene like a pink phone. There are laws –“

“We’re not stealing. We’re adopting,” Sherlock said indignantly. "That's perfectly legal."

John turned to Lestrade. “Either you teach your subordinate to keep a civil tongue in her head or we are going to start charging you. The going rate is 250 an hour for cases himself rates less than a five with a flat fee of 500 quid for anything solved in less than twenty-four hours.”

“Donovan take a walk.”

“But Lestrade-“

“TAKE A WALK.” Lestrade stuffed his hands in his pockets looking down at his feet until Sally Donovan stomped away grumbling. When she had gone Lestrade snapped his head up and growled at the crime solving couple, “Explain yourselves.”

Sherlock explained slowly as only a public school educated British peer would to a foreign born idiot of questionable lineage. 

“Neither John nor I have a womb or an aperture for natal egress. John and I have observed these children exhibit above average emotional resilience, no health defects and promising intellectual potential. Thus John and I have decided fill the child size vacancy in our family with these children. Because they are orphans. Orphans who need parents.”

“Sherlock there is a process –“

A women with dark hair, mirror shades, and wearing a smart navy suit strode up to the trio. “Good afternoon Mr. Holmes.”

“Right on time. Excellent.”

“Your brother extends his congratulations. Your mother expects your family at the manor this weekend.” She handed Sherlock a thick manila envelope. “Hello Dr. Watson, good to see you sir.”

“Aah – isn’t it Alice this week?”

“Very good sir.”

“Thank you Alice.” Sherlock handed the envelope to Lestrade and went back to patting his daughter’s back. “I think you’ll find the documents are in order.”

Alice extended a hand to Lestrade, her grip was firm. “DI Lestrade, I am your liaison –“

“Translation she is going to confiscate all the evidence that a certain lazy gluttonous government functionary consider above your pay grade.”

“Shut it Holmes,” Lestrade muttered.

An unmarked white delivery box truck opened and several men and women wearing plain navy jumpsuits and black rubber boots stepped out carrying metal cases. They were followed by four men with automatic weapons slung over their backs, they headed to the warehouse and disappeared inside. 

“My team is going to handle site clean up and take over processing the evidence,” Alice produced another manila folder, which she handed to DI Lestrade. “I believe you’ll find these documents in are order.” 

Lestrade looked over the warrant and nodded at Alice. She smiled.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” She headed off the warehouse oversee her people, and Lestrade opened the first fat packet of papers Sherlock had handed him.

Lestrade was not surprised to find an entire set of official documents: birth certificates, identity cards, passports, health records – stamped with official seals and signatures. 

“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into. Kids aren’t a science experiment you can chuck in the bin if you don’t like the results.”

“We have planned to adopt for more than a year,” Sherlock huffed hefting the little girl up a little bit. “Do you think we wasted our time getting ready to be parents by decorating a nursery? I’m a genius. He’s a doctor with military command experience. We know what we’re doing.”

“Come on Sherlock,” John touched the tall detectives elbow to guide him away from the DI. “Let’s get them home.” The boy was half John’s height, but John easily picked Hannibal up and propped him on his hip. Hannibal lay his head on John’s broad shoulder and bared his teeth at the DI as they walked away.

Lestrade shook his head tiredly. He could have sworn that little boy had fangs.

Sherlock, John and the children had to go six blocks before Sherlock could hail cab. The new family settled in with Hannibal in John’s lap and Mischa in Sherlock’s lap sleeping. The adults sat close together with the children in their laps touching back to side.

They rode to 221 B Baker Street in silence. It was strange to Hannibal to be cuddled by adults. He had spent so much time in dark cold places with no one but his little sister Hannibal had almost forgotten what safe and warm felt like. Even hungry, and sore all over with bruises he could not help falling into a deep sleep.

Hannibal awoke with four legs, wings and a tail. Mischa was gumming the nubs of his primary horns above his ears aggressively. She only had front legs – she was too young to have sprouted wings or hind legs – and her long serpentine body was wrapped around Hannibal pinning is wings uncomfortably.

Before Hannibal could shake his little sister off he heard a low grumble. A gold drake, in Gargoyle form with white wing webbing grasped Mischa by the scruff of the neck like a kitten and lifted her off of Hannibal. The golden drake cradled Mischa's soft grey body to his scaly chest and let her slobber on the bony ridge of his shoulder.

Hannibal rolled over, and twisted himself on to all fours. Hannibal sat with his tail wrapped around his legs with his hands on the floor in front of him like a cat. 

The golden drake lay down on his side. He raised one wing arched up over like a small cave and watched with amusement has Mischa tried to crawl up his side using her teeth and her claws.

“You’re like Mischa and me.” Hannibal looked first at John, then Sherlock who was black and polished as river stones with purple webbing between his wings. He was draped over the sofa like a lazy snake. He coiled his long tail around Hannibal and brought the child up to cuddle with him on the sofa.

“Are you going to hurt us?”

“I meant what I told Lestrade,” Sherlock replied flicking his tongue at Hannibal gently washing his face. 

“Our nest is empty. John and I are going to keep you and Mischa as our clutch.”

“Won’t your family be mad? We aren’t your blood. What about Legacy?”

At home, little children like Misha were stolen and kept. Hannibal was too old to be kept. They would eat his heart to get more power.

“There are Ways for that. Don’t worry. Mother Holmes will take care of everything this weekend.”

“No one is going to harm you while John and I breath fire,” Sherlock promised looking into Hannibal’s eyes. "You are ours. We are yours. Till the sun goes cold and the Old Ones give up their souls." 

“Come down here and coil with me.”

John pulled Sherlock and Hannibal down off the couch on top of himself. Mischa giggled as John rolled and coiled around Sherlock until he was satisfied. Hannibal and Mischa were cuddled against Sherlock’s belly with John coiled around them all.

“Sleep children. When you awake, we will feast on the roasted hearts of your enemies,” Sherlock promised soothingly. He rubbed the curve of his talons up and down the backs of his new children until the fell asleep.


End file.
